


Chasing The Aurora

by Danganphobia, OpalizedFossil



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Storm Trails, Emotional Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Knotting, M/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Storm Trails Verse, Tenderness, Trans Meis (Promare), afab language, teratophilia bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28541457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danganphobia/pseuds/Danganphobia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalizedFossil/pseuds/OpalizedFossil
Summary: The boss of Red Nova's often extremely busy.Meis impatiently waits until dusk for his return, and the two enjoy a splendid night of peace in the comforts of one another.
Relationships: Gueira/Meis (Promare)
Kudos: 19





	Chasing The Aurora

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andr0nap](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=andr0nap).



> this bday gift is A BIT overdue but I asked Lars to collab with me on this horny madness bc i could NOT do it alone that spiraled WAY out of control and out of our hands due to the sheer power of it.
> 
> happy belated birthday have some HOT HOT porn andro.

Meis watched everyone in the camp walk to and fro, resuming their daily agendas. He sat in the corner of the canteen where they had their morning meetings, a scowl on his face. 

_This absolutely sucked ass._

The only person who’s here was Memphis. Meis didn’t fucking like Memphis - and the feeling was mutual. Everyone else was a douchebag and poked too much fun at him for him to be on casual speaking terms with.

There was Minneapolis… but sadly she was one of the people who left with the main crew to follow Gueira away from Red Nova’s base to run some stupid errands. Baltimore fucking hated everyone and had a fuck ton of shit he had to do on his own already. He wasn’t going to bother him. The others, he’s not on casual terms with either.

Most meetings, he just quietly slinks in and no one would even notice he was there until he made his presence known, but Gueira had a way of knowing exactly when he arrived. It’s fine. Boss was the only person Meis wanted to talk to, anyways. 

So, it pained him that he had to leave to talk with their allies and Meis would have to spend the day loitering around camp and hoping there was work Gueira left for him to do, and he’d blend in with everyone else.

Not that it wasn’t important. It probably was. Meis just hated it because this was one of those times he was asked to stay behind and to not tag along. Maybe it’s because he’s not one to often use his voice and was anxious to speak up about it… but he wished he would’ve told Gueira that he could pull his weight and could actually do something more than being the _delivery boy_. 

He promised Meis to wait until dusk and he’d be back as soon as possible. He kept it curt. If Meis didn’t hear fast enough, he probably would’ve missed it, right before Gueira left. 

There’s many places in the camp where the members could frequent and chat with one another, but Meis’ favorite place was Gueira’s office. 

_Especially_ when it was empty. In fact, it’s one of the good things that came out of staying behind. When Meis was finished with his own tasks, he’d sneak inside and sit there just to get a _feel_ for what it was like, taking total control of a gang of mercenaries sounded like such a difficult task. Red Nova wasn’t a gang that Meis thought he’d be joining either and here he was, years in, adapting quite slowly, but surely. 

This was the chair Gueira sat in. The desk he did all his work in. The desk he’s taken Meis on countless times after hours when everyone settled in their tents for the night and finished their work. All the stacks of unfinished paperwork that’s kept piling up every single day he tended to which Meis sometimes helped him with (maybe he’s shredded some of them out of bitterness his boss would pay attention to him). Opened mail sent by the ravens from their allies. A map where there’s darts thrown at targets and other important locations.

It’s fascinating: feeling like he’s living a bit of Gueira’s own life the more time they spent together privately, and the time they spent as a gang collectively. They have this air of ferocity, determination, courage, utter devotion to their boss.

Meis wasn’t one to be competitive… but it felt great knowing that he caught Gueira’s attention and he wanted it that way compared to everyone else. (Memphis, included. Dude needed to back the fuck off.) He knew who the real favorite was, and so did everyone else. As much as it embarrassed him to be teased endlessly about it as the _Unicorn_ , he’s still the one sitting in Gueira’s chair. 

He messed around with his traps for intruders purposefully so Gueira could wrangle him out of them. He started fights with the other members for the sole purpose of being scolded. Cheered him on during battles and risked his safety for Gueira to save him more often than not. He slept in his bed sometimes after _his boss_ had touched and tasted every inch of his body, pleasuring him until he passed out in exhaustion. He still helped him with his paperwork. Came in his office and sat on his desk as if he’d been doing this routine for years. Knew things about him that no one else did, inside and out, the very things that scared him. His strengths, his weaknesses, his wants, his goals, his fears. They’d seen the good and the bad. They’ve explored the _world_ and endured through the worst pain, beared the worst scars, carried each other through them.

No one else knew any of this but Meis. 

Sometimes, it felt like it wasn’t enough. But Meis would take what he could get. Unfortunately, he couldn’t freeload in the office for too long without getting caught and Gueira wasn’t too lenient with Meis’ shenanigans if he wasn’t in the mood, so he quickly left and did what work he could do to pass the time. It’s easy to blend in when no one gave a shit, as long as he wasn’t fucking things up for anyone else (he was an expert at that), then they’d disregard his existence until they needed something from him. That was okay. Just a little bit more, he thought. Then, Gueira would be back.

When the skies darkened, he tried to contain his nervous excitement.

The days are so _long_ when he’s not around. Occasionally, Meis would look to the skies and silently hope that time would pass by in the blink of his one blue eye. 

Now’s his chance to wait in Gueira’s tent. He smiled a little with mischief. He practically dropped the cargo box full of supplies he’s picked up and scared one of the members as he skipped away, delighted.

Gueira should have been in a good mood.

Negotiations with Red Nova’s allies went well. Trading was going smoothly. Things were looking better than ever for the dozens and dozens of runaway and displaced Burnish in the deserts surrounding Promepolis - or at least, as well as things _could_ look when you were running from so many forces that wanted you dead just for existing in the form that they deemed _wrong._ Things would never be perfect for the Burnish, no matter how hard he worked. That was a weight he would carry to his grave, he was certain of it, and maybe that’s why he returned from such a successful meeting in such a sour mood. 

His armor melted mostly away as he approached the empty cargo container where he made his bed - but only mostly. He could see the lantern burning with Burnish fire through the tawny fabric of his tent from where he stood and knew that Meis was waiting for him. No use in removing what he’ll only be asked to put back on in a moment. It’s almost enough to make him smile, but only almost. Grunting, he started the climb towards his tent, gripping rusty handholds and the broken rungs of what was once a ladder on the side of the old cargo container, ignoring the infrequent pangs of his hip until he reached the top.

He could see the silhouette of Meis through the tawny canvas now, lit in the flicker of his own steely blue flames. A rough tongue flicked out to wet chapped lips as he admired the slender curves of the other man’s body through the shadows, a growl rushing up from his depths before he could stop it as he felt the urge to pounce like a predator at its prey. Something sweet and beautiful and oh-so-bratty was waiting for him. Something sweet and beautiful and _his_ , and the thrill of that sent a shockwave of need straight down his spine. Nothing eased the ache inside him and pried the weight of the world off his shoulders quite like coming home - _was this home?_ \- to Meis. 

A hand gone oil-slick black with steely scales parted the flaps leading into the tent and Gueira ducked inside, amber eyes dark with the weight of the day and his bad mood as he drank in the familiar sight of Dallas, settled on his side on the pile of pelts that Gueira used to sleep on, on the rare occasions that he actually slept, much less somewhere other than his office. Meis was a stunner, tried and true, and not even the harsh heat and grating sandy winds of the desert could change that in the growing number of years he spent here. The way he lounged on his side with one slender hip, sleekly clad in black, jutting upwards and his tresses of deep black hair hanging over his pointed shoulder and parting around his one piercing blue eye as it watched him oh-so-coyly, it all looked much more suited to the cover of a modeling magazine than to the middle of the wastes, where Gueira could provide only a tent and a hot meal and protection. Meis deserved more. Meis deserved better. But, it made Gueira’s heart ache when he thought about it, so he batted the thought away for now, to instead fall down on his elbows beside Meis instead, one arm instantly sweeping around his lithe waist and bringing him in close. The fire in the lantern flickered in excitement as Gueira swept Meis into his chest, pressing rough lips to the shell of his ear. “Did you miss me, Dallie?” he rumbled into the flickering shadows, eye dark with heady desire. 

Meis thought of this scenario a thousand times over in his head. They’ve done this before, every chance they got, though it was quite rare. Nothing compared to the real thing. He’s grown nervous all of a sudden, and his conscience berated him for it.

He’d sensed something different in the room when Gueira stepped inside and the ache in his chest of how he longed for him only grew stronger when his hands steadily placed themselves on Gueira’s chest. He shivered delectably at his lips touching his ear. He wanted nothing more than for Gueira to take him now.

“You’re late,” Meis whispered, a stubborn pout on his lips. Of course he missed Gueira. He often did when they spent more time apart than they did together. It felt like hours stretched so short in his arms and for decades when they pulled apart. “I hope your _errands_ went okay,” he murmured, leaning into him and breathing in the musk of his scent, that of strong clove. He held such beauty in his crimson eyes. One of Meis’ hands traced his face, mapping out chiseled cheekbones, a pointed jaw, the scar across his nose. As much as he ached with desire to see who he’d call his lover he wanted to indulge a bit and enjoy the moment, the feeling of breathing the same air. Lying atop this bed, much more like a throne for a king. Meis basked in it all. 

Gueira seemed to be enjoying the moment, too, nostrils flaring lightly as he inhaled Meis’ scent, his face flush with the other man’s throat, where he smelled the most sweet. Meis heard him sigh unsteadily against his skin, felt the way his breath made his strong chest flutter. Then, those amber eyes flickered up to meet his gaze with a murmur of, “Sorry.” Simply said, but Gueira was in no mood for words, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips once more, before he was pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of Meis’ throat, feeling the pulse of blood through his jugular and the way the fire burned in his veins, drinking in his heat with the gentle graze of his teeth. Things wouldn’t stay gentle for long. They never did, Gueira’s fingernails, gone sharp and black with a covering of armor, already sinking steadily deeper into the plushness of Meis’ thighs. Part of him stopped to consider this, while his lips continued to roam Meis’ neck and prominent collarbones with little licks and kisses, something inside Gueira purring with contentment at the realization that Meis was finally beginning to put on some weight there. Meis was healthy and strong and beautiful, and all of it made the fiery thing inside of Gueira croon in delight. He batted the thought away for now, however; he had other matters to attend to. 

“Did you behave for me while I was gone today, Dallie?” Gueira hummed from where he was sucking a hickey on Meis’ neck, watching how the purple-blue color blossomed quickly over his shoulder before his fire licked it away again. He would never know the pleasure of leaving a mark on Meis, but it didn’t stop him from trying, lips searching up to the junction of Meis’ jaw to press a kiss there instead, before he nipped softly at the lobe of his ear, worrying the piercing that waited there. 

The softest gasp escaped Meis’ lips when Gueira latched onto his skin. “I did, boss,” his words escaped him in a breath. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment. For once, he didn’t trouble anyone. Even if he did, lying about it wouldn’t get him anywhere. Gueira already had a knack of finding out one way or another. He just read him that well.

For Gueira’s attention? He’d misbehave quite a bit.

“I missed you.” It came out as a murmur. His long, dark fingernails raked across Gueira’s arms, up to his shoulders, feeling all the roughened edges of the other’s scales. He’d never get enough of how they dug into his flesh, beginning to squirm. He could feel Gueira’s eagerness and it made him feel lightheaded. He wasn’t sure he could hold out any longer under Gueira’s scorching touch against his skin. The hours that led up to this caught up to him all at once and it was a bit harder to process his thoughts.

He lightly pushed Gueira back, just enough so they were at eye-level, and leaned in to kiss him gently on the lips, chaste… he didn’t have the confidence to deepen it any further, but he wanted to show the notion that he was grateful for his presence. Meis framed Gueira’s cheeks in his hands. “It’s been a long day,” he said, a bit meek, seeing the flicker of exhaustion in the other’s eyes, “You should relax.”

Gueira hummed thoughtfully, “You know I don’t relax.” Even as he said it, one elongated black claw traced circles on Meis’ hip, tangible even through the fabric still between them. “You better get this off, Dallie, or I’ll have no choice but to tear it off of you, and I don’t know if we have anything else for you to wear if I do.” One amber eye fluttered in the suggestion of a wink and, for a moment, Gueira almost smiled. If anything could still make him, it was Meis. 

Meis loved the possibility of what would occur if Gueira had done that. He was hoping Gueira would take his clothes off for him, and as much as being short of clothing would be unfortunate… Meis took Gueira’s hand and placed it on his body. 

“Then I think you should help me out,” he offered. It wasn’t necessarily meant to be teasing, but he’d felt his hands trembling so much he wouldn’t be able to get everything off his person fast enough.

Strong hands, palms rough with callouses where the obsidian scales didn’t cover them, gently clasped around Meis’, steadying his shivers. “Easy, Dallas,” he soothed him softly, then chuckled, a deep throaty sound that went right past Meis’ waistband, “You’re so sweet when you’re eager. You can hardly wait to have my hands on you, can you? Poor thing. But, if you insist.”

A flick of black claws and Meis’ pants were slit from waistband to knee in one fluid motion, Gueira’s fingers digging into the loose fabric and jerking it off of him the rest of the way, where they landed on the pelts underneath them in a forgotten tattered heap. It was cold in the desert this time of the night, but all Meis could feel was the flicker of the fire in his depths as it called out to the same flame that blazed inside Gueira, whose skin suddenly felt much warmer against his. The same claws that had just ripped leather to shreds in an instant now tenderly grasped at Meis’ backside, giving it a supple squeeze, sinking it just enough that Meis felt them, but not deeply enough to break the skin. Not yet. 

Gueira laid Meis back on the soft shaggy pelt - a bear, he thought, he’s had it for years and it’s just about unrecognizable beyond a mass of brownish-black fur gone grey with age - and clutched his hips and kissed him. Where Meis was chaste, Gueira was hot and hungry and all-consuming, eager to lay claim to what was already his. It was only for a moment, but he still came away from Meis’ lips with a throaty growl, eyes dark and heady. The flame was lit. 

“I’ve waited all day,” Meis gasped. The coolness of the pelt beneath him heated up instantly once Gueira climbed on top of him. The coarse fur stroked his skin in all the right ways and he trembled, forming goosebumps. He always liked it when his boss was a little rough. Meis was so impatient, he was pleading. “Touch me,” he asked of him. They were cautious, making sure that everyone slinked away at a certain point during nightfall. While they didn’t have to worry about someone waking in the night and intruding on them, Meis was not known to be quiet. 

His boss needed his fill, and Meis was the feast. He’d offer himself in a heartbeat until Gueira had his satisfaction. Lucky for them both, Gueira had a massive appetite. Normally, he’d cover himself to gather his composure a little better… but tonight, he revealed himself, a coy rabbit baiting a growling wolf. 

He wanted Gueira to know that he was all his, and he could do whatever he wanted. The glimmer in his teal eye was daunting in its allure, twinkling in anticipation. 

“All day? Just for me, hmm?” Gueira rumbled into Meis’ throat as he sucked another bruise there, watching as it vanished in an instant before he moved lower, hot tongue swathing along the shape of his collarbone. Another flick of his wrist and Meis’ shirt was falling off of him, Gueira’s claws cutting through fabric like hot butter - but forever careful not to puncture the tight black binder just underneath, suddenly gentle as he dusted the shredded remnants of Meis’ shirt away. He was all bare except for his binder now (the poor thing had run out of properly fitting underwear a long time ago, courtesy of the same claws that now made such short work of his shirt).

Gueira flicked a stray shred of fabric off his claws, then resumed his work on Meis’ neck: a kiss to his collarbone, to his shoulder, to his chest just above where the binder covered his skin, and then again just below it. He flicked a red-hot tongue along the soft supple plane just above Meis’ navel and, as he did, smoke billowed out his nostrils with a chuff of anticipation, fingers squeezing at Meis’ hips eagerly. At that moment, it was easy to imagine what it was like to be devoured by a dragon. “You waited so long for me, Dallie,” Gueira purred as he blew kisses against Meis’ pubic bone, covered in the softest swathe of delicate black hair, “You were so patient for me, weren’t you? Such a _good boy.”_

Meis responded with a whine, hips twitching at the faintest of kisses. “I don’t think I can wait anymore,” he moaned, squirming impatiently. He’s no longer bitter about the long wait. He knew that after tonight, he’d forget all about it in a state of sensual bliss, much like what he was feeling right now. He’d wait a full moon, and another, over and over, if it meant experiencing this like the first time again. 

They might’ve done this dance a couple times now, but his sweet, cooing words set Meis aflame from head to toe, curling on the pelt beneath them. His fingers dug into the fur below, bracing himself.

Chuckling, Gueira grasped Meis’ wrists, prying his slender little fingers from the pelt’s fur and moving them to his own head of hair, dusty auburn scattered over a brown so dark it was nearly black, appearing almost golden in the lamplight. “You pull on it if you need to stop, same as always,” he hummed as his own hands slid back into place on Meis’ hips, squeezing gently as he lowered his mouth to Meis’ pussy, parting his folds with one swipe of his broad flat tongue. His breath was hot bordering on unholy, making Meis squirm against the pelt until Gueira stilled him with one hand and a little growl of warning, those amber eyes flickering up to meet his gaze through heavy lids. Another flick of that tongue and Meis’ clit was enveloped in Gueira’s scorching heat, lolling wetly along its hood to expose the swollen bud underneath. This was something Gueira could entertain himself with for hours, pushing Meis towards the edge only to jerk him back down, watching how he shivered and squirmed and cried out until he was sniveling and begging. Unfortunately for him, Meis was none too patient, fingers already digging into his scruffy hair and toes scrambling for purchase on the bear hide as Gueira again parted him with his tongue, swirling it between his folds to get a better taste of him. It’s a taste he’s had many times before, but Meis never ceased to be his favorite flavor. 

_“B-Boss_ —,” Meis cried out, trying to squirm away when the pressure became all too much to handle. Gueira was quite skillful with his tongue, almost _too_ skillful. With that clever tongue curving around his folds and his clit in all the right places, his brain shut off completely. “Too much,” he gasped, his body trembling at each swipe, Gueira's tongue wet and scorching. 

He was already at the brink of cumming and Gueira had only been at this for such a brief period… but he was never one to last long, not with Gueira. He whimpered, his thighs circling Gueira’s head and his fingers tugging on his wild mane of red hair. 

Meis hadn't wanted him to stop, but he thrashed at the intensity of the sensation, something that caused his whole body to jolt and shiver. His back arched off the pelt. Gueira knew his body and knew it well by now, his claws tracing soothing shapes on Meis’ hip bones as his tongue lapped at him, humming contently at the way Meis’ thighs tried their best to crush his head while his fingers tangled themselves up in his messy curls and pulled. It was sweet how easily Meis came undone for him, and it stroked a possessive something inside him just so. But, he wasn’t ready to let Meis off so easy, not yet. It had been a long day, after all. Gueira wanted to make Meis’ wait worth it. He pulled away, smacking his lips almost obnoxiously as he did so, and rested his slick-wet chin on Meis’ chin as he gazed up at him tauntingly, but fondly nonetheless. “Are you ready to cum already, darling? So soon? Don’t you wanna cum on my dick instead, Dallie?” he crooned, patting Meis’ hip lightly. He himself was about to combust from how the fiery thing inside him thrashed and roared for him to claim his mate already, his cock straining fervently against the leather of his trousers, but he quieted it for now. Working Meis up was worth the wait.

 _Fuck him already,_ the thing inside him growled. _Please._

Gueira mostly ignored it. _Patience_ , he reminded it, then flicked his tongue over Meis’ clit again while he waited for his response. The poor thing was such a mess already, he noted in delight. 

“W-Wait, d-don’t—” The pitched whine that came out of Meis was almost embarrassing. He’d end up waking up the whole camp and they’d have to nag them about it when the morning came. But the thought of volume control was the least of Meis’ concerns, not when Gueira barely gave him a second to breathe before his tongue was on him again. 

How badly he wanted to cum on Gueira’s gorgeous, massive cock, yet he whimpered and his breaths came in quickening gasps. He climaxed against his will, an orgasm hitting him hard. “Boss!” he nearly screamed, both his hands nestled atop of Gueira’s head, and he could only chew down on his lip with his sharpened teeth hard enough that he drew blood, toes digging into Gueira’s shoulder. 

The wave of relief did not last for long. 

“I can’t wait anymore,” Meis implored, “I-I need you, boss… I need it.” He moved against his jaw steadily for friction. His mind was conflicted; he’s begging for more than he can handle. He’s feeling everything at once, and yet, _allow him to claim, devour, indulge,_ Dallas’ conscious rumbled in his brain like a pulsating echo. He throbbed with want, his body racked with oversensitivity. 

Gueira answered with another rumbling purr, something more intense boiling behind those honey-amber eyes now as he watched his beloved come undone, digging sharp little nails into his scalp and toes into his shoulders and keening like a kitten. _Delicious,_ the thing inside him growled with need, as Gueira flicked his tongue over the hyper-sensitive nub of Meis’ clit once more, just to hear him yelp with a moan and see the way his slender hips bucked up to meet his mouth in anguished, aroused surprise. Gueira chuckled, releasing Meis’ hip to trail a finger through the wetness gathered between his legs now, oozing thick and sticky onto the hide beneath them.

He scissored two fingers apart, stretching a sheen of slick between them, before lapping it up with his long red tongue - one of five he could have, if he chose to, but tonight, there was only one, long and thick and flexible and slobbery as he licked his fingers clean and smacked his lips like a hungry cat. Meis mewled and something in Gueira responded with an eager little buck of his hips, into nothing but empty air. “Fortunately for you, Dallie,” Gueira lulled in an aroused haze, black scales threading further up his arms now, up past his elbows, and three-inch-long spines sprouting up from his vertebrae, “I can’t wait anymore, either.”

He licked his lips again, this time as he hovered over Meis on all fours like a beast, eyes dark with desire and that one long tongue leaking saliva down his chin. His pants felt like they were nearly bursting now, not only from the strain of his staggering cock, but also from the scaly black tail attempting to form from his tailbone. “Get these off me,” he purred, guiding Meis’ hand to his waistband by the wrist, feeling the way the little thing’s hands were shaking with how hard he had come.

Meis scrambled to get Gueira’s trousers off of him and free his large cock. He’s practically salivating at the sight of it, panting with maddening desperation. One quick tug, precise with practice, and Gueira’s cock sprang free from the too-tight confines of his trousers, swiftly yanked down to his thighs as Meis scrambled for his prize. 

Gueira only chuckled, shifting first onto one knee, then the other, to let Meis slip his pants completely off of him, a thick black tail covered in sleek obsidian scutes trailing behind him, beginning where his spine ended. But, the draconic tail was no more noteworthy to Meis than the color of the sand after a thousand days in the desert, his attention wholly fixed on the heavy thick cock hanging between Gueira’s legs. The size of him was intimidating, once upon a time, before Meis had made Gueira’s lap his throne and ridden him ‘til sunrise so many times that he lost count, memories of Gueira’s claws on his lithe little hips as he guided him up, down, up, down making him shiver even in the blazing heat that brewed between them now, the fiery things inside of them crying out for each other, making their eyes flicker with fractals of heat. 

Now, Meis looked on only in anticipation as the thick cock twitched and filled out just a little more with arousal, as if it had any right to get even bigger than it already was, nearly as thick around as Meis’ petite little wrist with a plump head gone ruddy red with desperation, the underside shiny and slick with the heavy beads of pre that had already rolled down it. This part of Gueira - Miami? it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended, and Meis loved them both in turn - was as scaly as the rest of him when he wore his armor halfway, the underside of his shaft ribbed with rough little ridges that rubbed him just right with every stroke, the base bulging just a little larger than the rest of it. A few thrusts into Meis and that plump base would be swollen into a knot the size of a softball, ready to tie them together for the next hour while Gueira furiously ravished Meis’ neck with kisses and bites quite far from gentle, while he rutted into him as far as his knot would allow him, all while Meis squeaked with spent moans and whines and clutched at his mate with his own kitten claws. 

A rough finger on Meis’ chin snapped him out of it. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you it ain’t polite to stare, darling?” Gueira remarked with a snaggle-toothed grin, that fire growing ever brighter in his eyes, which now shone almost as red as the two bull-horns jutting up from his hairline, surrounded by shaggy dark hair that no longer looked auburn from where he loomed over Meis. He chuckled, one claw sweeping away the saliva pooling in the corner of Meis’ plump lips, amazed at how soft they somehow remained even in the abrasive desert winds. “Look at you, Dallie. You’re _drooling_. All this for me?” 

Unable to say another word, Meis found himself slowly rising onto his knees. His hands reached to touch his cock, stroking Gueira in a lust-filled daze, the hue of his eye flickering with aphrodisia. He leaned forward and bent down, the urge to take his hardened shaft into his mouth growing more and more persistent. He knelt in front of Gueira, practically worshipping his draconic cock as his warm little tongue circled the underside. He felt the ridges beneath his tongue and moaned softly, as much as he couldn’t wait to feel Gueira’s cock inside of him… he needed to taste it first, to marvel at the sight of it.

Audible sucking echoed off the canvas walls, as Meis licked a trail up to the swollen head and wound his tongue around it. His tiny little mouth wasn’t big enough to take it all in, but his eyes gazed up at Gueira and his only driven goal at this second was to please him. His mouth stretched over his cock and drool coated the shaft, starting from Meis’ chin. Some had even dripped down his neck and chest. He was a mess - a sloppy, sexy, beautiful mess. 

Meis was eager to repay the favor. Urgently, with the little energy he had left in him, he bobbed his head gently and developed a sloppy rhythm. The cock pulsed in his mouth and Meis felt his arousal practically dripping once more, sparking up another fire in his core. He might’ve heard a grunt or two from Gueira, but mostly, he was silent, and the slight buck of his hips was enough to give Meis an idea that he was responding with interest.

Gueira had never been a vocal man. He snarled just loudly enough to strike fear into the hearts of men and turn the blood of even the bravest Burnish to ice when he was angry - and he spoke just loudly enough to make his orders known most days. Emotional outbursts were a sign of weakness out here, and the Red Devil was nothing if not calm and collected even when outrage and vengeance and fire simmered just beneath his skin. 

He was quiet, aloof in a way, withdrawn out of necessity. But for Meis, for his beloved, he would make a little noise: a subtle intake of air hardly able to be called a gasp when those soft lips first touched him, a grunt when they pinched closed over a particularly sensitive spot, a soft sigh when a warm little tongue kitten-licked over his glans. Gueira tasted heady and warm on Meis’ tongue, his cock scorching to the touch, hot enough to burn anybody but a Burnish. It was all mesmerizing to Meis: the way Gueira tasted, sounded, felt. But nothing was better than the way one corner of Gueira’s lips subtly twitched up into the faintest hint of a smile when he threaded his claws through Meis’ silky black hair and just barely twitched his hips forward, with a heady growl of, “More. _Good_ boy.” 

Meis could only push forward, his hands steadily pumping away at Gueira's cock as his head bobbed. The red of his cheeks deepened. He wondered just how much Gueira was holding in, reaching to curiously fondle the balls hanging heavy underneath his thick cock, which tensed up instantly under his ministrations. Meis moaned around Gueira’s cock like it'd been the best thing he ever tasted (and maybe it was). As long as his boss was feeling good, then he'd push for more. _More. More._

He pulled all the way back to the tip, lifting his head away with a wet _pop_ , and more saliva dripped down his chin, breathless, as he stroked him again while peeking up at Gueira with his coy blue eye, voice bashful. 

"Does this feel good, boss?" he asked, waiting for confirmation as he caught his breath, but he didn't stall too long, lapping around the head and working his way down. His chest heaved because he couldn't do it for too long without stopping to breathe or he'd gag. _Keep going,_ a fiery voice inside him gently urged. Dallas, Meis knew right away. 

“Fuck _yes_ , it feels good,” Gueira seethed through his teeth in response, canines glinting long and white in the bluish lamplight, now flickering sporadically as Meis’ focus shifted only to Gueira, only to the thick cock in his mouth, only on bringing the man before him as much pleasure as possible. The coy glimmer in his big blue eye made the beast inside Gueira croon with a purr, _Look at him. Trying so hard to please us._ Gueira hummed aloud in agreement, but Meis took it only as a sign that he should keep going as he bobbed back down on his thick cock, Gueira’s claws tightening in the long silky tresses of his hair. Miami silently urged him to buck his hips, to chase red-hot pleasure straight down Meis’ dainty little throat, but Gueira didn’t, restraining himself with great effort and letting Meis work. The warmth and silky-hot wetness of his mouth was a familiar comfort now, one Gueira had indulged in many times, and yet it never failed to take his breath away every time (sometimes literally, on the nights when he clutched Meis’ head to his pubic bone while tears cropped up in the corners of his eye and streaked his eyeliner, hot thick ropes of cum shooting down his throat). The thought made Gueira bite his lip now - or maybe it was the way Meis was pulling back to circle just the head of him with his warm little tongue. _Fuck,_ he was good. Criminally, unfairly, heavenly good. 

Meis could practically feel Gueira growing close. His throat burned painfully, but it hadn’t stopped him from working his mouth enthusiastically. Gueira could do what he pleased with his mouth and fuck it if he desired, use him, fill him, all for the taking. He picked up the pace and pushed even harder. _That’s it,_ Dallas purred in his ear. His eyes fluttered shut in a daze, he wanted to bring more of that savageness out of Gueira, he wasn’t just satisfying the boss of Red Nova, but the Red Devil himself.

Gueira felt the pressure in his depths building to the point of breaking and gave Meis’ hair a gentle tug, grunting faintly. The smaller man whimpered as Gueira guided himself out of his mouth, bringing a sticky trail of Meis’ saliva mixed with his own pre-cum with him and chuckling breathlessly at the way Meis chased after his prize with his lips for a moment before he finally let it go. “You’re insatiable, Dallie,” he teased him, fingers coming to rest feather-light against Meis’ cheek, his thumb gently wiping away Meis’ horny choked tears, “Any more of that and I would have blown too soon. I can’t go drowning my second-in-command, hmm? How about I bend you in half and fuck you into the ground instead?”

Meis’s visceral response consisted of nothing coherent, more like a pleading whine because he already couldn’t handle the painful ache between his legs, even if he’d already cum once. He needed more, more, and more. 

_“Please, boss.”_ He sat up a little and slowly spread his legs, his pretty pink cunt dripping and loose enough to be filled. “Hurry,” he whispered, before Gueira’s claws gripped one slender thigh and spread his legs wider, eagerly drinking in the sight of Meis spread open and sloppy wet for him, a delicate swathe of black hair shining and glossy down the middle where his pink pussy lips peeked out, clit aching beneath its swollen little hood. The Red Devil smacked his lips like a hungry predator, feeling his cock pulse with interest, and took Meis’ other thigh, gripping them both tightly enough that Meis felt the sharp prick of his claws, making him whimper in pained delight.

“You’re pretty as a picture, Dallie,” Gueira cooed as he steadied himself between Meis’ legs, bending them back towards his shoulders. Meis whimpered only in anticipation; he was nothing if not flexible, and Gueira had spent many nights bending him in half while he fucked him (and many mornings-after giving excuses why Dallas wouldn’t be attending Red Nova meetings when the poor thing woke up with legs made of jello, hardly able to walk). Gueira admired him for a moment: the way he bent and flexed so easily, the pretty cinch of his waist, the smooth planes of his stomach just beneath the bottom hem of his black binder, fluttering with a harsh breath. His Meis was beautiful, and he looked even better sprawled out with his fingers tangled in the scruffy fur of a black bear hide and his silky hair spread out all around him like a halo, with Gueira’s cock dripping pre above him before he trailed it teasingly along Meis’ spread pussy, nudging the head underneath his clit just to hear the way his breath caught so prettily in his throat. Then, with a sigh, he sank into him in one familiar fluid thrust, Meis’ body spreading so easily around him, every bump and ridge of his cock gliding smoothly into Meis’ soft inner walls. It was something he had done many times before, and yet it still made his breath shake. “F-Fuck,” he growled under his breath, the twin bull horns that curled up from his crown growing brighter as the thing inside him snarled its approval. 

Meis’ cry would definitely wake everyone else, not that he could help it in that moment. Gueira’s cock plunging into him _just like that_ was enough to put the stars in his eye, and he clenched around it painfully, the size just what he needed to stretch him out pleasantly. His blue horn shifted into visibility from his head and his toes curled, shaking under Gueira’s tight hold. His chest heaved with every sharp intake of breath, gaze heavy-lidded and mouth hanging open, face flushed pretty pink. Meis’ hands reached up to hold Gueira’s face, just as Dallas whispered in his mind: _let him ravish you._

“You look so pretty when I fuck you,” Gueira murmured against Meis’ lips as he faintly brushed them with a kiss, his own rough and chapped from long hours spent out in the sandy desert winds, while Meis’ remained miraculously plump and soft and kissable despite the bitter weather, “Your eye gets all hazy and heavy-lidded and your cheeks flush all nice and pink. You even brought your horn out for me, hmm?” He rolled his hips almost lazily, feeling the way Meis parted around him so willingly, slick and wet and soft and smelling sweetly of sweat and arousal. Miami chuffed, Gueira’s nostrils flaring for them both, huffing in great big lungfuls of Meis’ scent. _Ours,_ the beast rumbled, and Gueira was inclined to agree. His Dallas. His Meis. His everything, even though he could never bring himself to say it aloud, in fear that the cruel, cruel world would somehow jinx him by suddenly taking it all away once he said it. 

Whereas Gueira had two horns that curved out and upward from his crown, gleaming red like a club sign on a Vegas strip and casting them in glaring neon light, Meis had only one - slightly off-center where it sprang out from his forehead, in a smooth subtle arc that terminated in a dagger-sharp point, glowing cyan like the Burnish fire that lit his lantern nearby and sending blue shadows across the rugged planes of Gueira’s face, into the dips and divots of his scars and around the faint stubble of two days’ worth of facial hair. Gueira watched the red light of his horns flickering in his reflection in the bright of Meis’ one eye, pricking with tears from the sheer intensity of the feeling as Gueira rolled his hips once more, his movements teasingly slow and bordering on torturous, before he dipped down to kiss him. 

Their lips met and foreheads touched. Meis’ one horn fit between Gueira’s two the way a key fits _just so_ in its lock, a pair made to be together. Gueira’s heart squeezed in his chest at the metaphor as it rattled around in his brain, somewhere in-between his thrusts as he started to pick up his pace, bringing their hips together with an audible wet smack as he pushed Meis’ knees clean up to his shoulders to chase his lips further, lost in the sweet taste of their kiss. Dallas _was_ his key, the one to unlock his innermost thoughts and feelings and all the dark things that he as leader locked away deep inside him. There were things only Meis would ever know about him: that his rough unkempt brows drew tightly together when he had a nightmare (and he had a lot of them), that he had a secret sweet tooth, that he liked how those cheap plasticky ballpoint pens from the dollar store wrote the best - and his name. To the others, he would only ever be Miami, Red Nova’s Red Devil, a feared leader and a force to be reckoned with, a friend to some and an enemy to others. But, to Meis, he was so much more: safety, warmth, affection, love.

He must have zoned out thinking about it, coming to when Meis’ delicate fingers ghosted along his stubbly cheeks, bringing him back down for another kiss as he smiles up at him. Their horns interlocked and the light around them was suddenly violet, casting their features in bright purple instead of red and blue, two things joining as one in every sense of the word. Gueira eagerly chased Meis’ lips, lapping sweetly at the taste of him, before he pulled away just in time to moan at a particularly deep thrust. “Sorry,” he quipped, almost timidly, “Was just thinkin’. You want it harder, darling?” 

“Yes, please! Ah!” Meis practically sang, but he’d like to know what was occupying his mind, the way he always does. The look in his eyes boring into him made him shiver: intimidation, comfort, wonder… everyone feared this man with their very lives, they hadn’t even seen him as human at all, but a cold, ruthless soul. Not Meis. When he looked into his face he saw beautiful, roughened edges of a man pained by many scars. Meis himself might not be much. They stumbled into each other’s lives by chance, or that’s what it seemed at first.

The way they fit together so perfectly was a mystery to Meis, and he wondered if there was something he was missing all this time in his void of a life, all the coldness he'd once felt filled with never ending warmth. The second Gueira sheathed in him again, he quickly came undone. He wanted to show Gueira he could give him just as much as the other did, and that he was allowed to give himself that much pleasure, for himself more than them both.

“You’re so beautiful when you sing for me, nightingale,” Gueira hummed in a soft rasp gone hoarse with effort and arousal, bringing his hips to meet Meis’ once more, violet light dancing prettily around them each time their hips met with a lewd wet smack, casting stretching shadows across the pelts they laid on and the patched, ragged canvas walls of the tent like their own little aurora borealis. It was its own entire brand of beautiful, with how it reflected purple and lilac in Meis’ one ice blue eye, glowing cyan like his horn, like his fire, like his soul. Once upon a time, there had been two of them, and the memory of how Meis came to have only one eye never failed to send a shudder of remorse and fear straight down Gueira’s spine and into his very core. It was precarious, to love someone when you were Miami - the Red Devil, the renowned leader of Red Nova, the Burnish who led all other Burnish and who Freeze Force wanted nothing more than to snuff out for good. Gueira had almost lost him that day, but never again, he promised himself, as he huffed out a moan and smothered Meis’ lips in another kiss, his pace growing more unsteady as he started to lose himself to the mounting pleasure in his depths. No one would ever almost take his Meis from him again. He wouldn’t let them. Not now, not ever. Meis was his.

Where their horns interlocked flickered violet as Gueira’s horns undulated with a pulsing red glow for a moment, surging with a sudden onslaught of emotion. It wasn’t like him, but then again, Gueira never was much like himself when Meis was around - or was he? Was this the real him? He gasped softly as he thrusted harder into Meis’ body, practically bending him in half where he fucked him, that thick swollen base of his cock pounding against Meis’ backside like a fist on a door, sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose and beading on his forehead with the effort of not just stuffing it inside him and blowing his load right away. But, Meis had patiently waited for him all day, he deserved a better fuck than that. 

“I love you,” Gueira said without thinking, and then he kissed him again. 

Meis kissed him back with every ounce of strength left in him, as little as it was. 

“I love you too, boss,” he breathed all the life he had into Gueira’s lips whenever their lips touched, sharing the same air, raspy broken moans, cries, and whines escaping him. “I love you,” he repeated, over and over. Each time, his voice cracked and his breath frayed into another moan. _I love you, I love you, I love you_. 

He wasn’t prepared for another climax to hit him as strongly as it did now, shuddering, fluids coating Gueira’s erection as it pumped in and out of him. But it didn’t matter, Gueira would make him cum again and again until the sun rose, patiently waiting for his release. He felt his skin glisten with sweat, gazing into his lover’s eyes, drool dripping down his chin. They’d toss and turn around and he’d be handled like a ragdoll and yet, there’s still such care and adoration in Gueira’s eyes, so intense that it brought prickling tears to the corner of Meis’ one eye. 

Gueira grunted when Meis came again, feeling him suddenly squeeze tighter around his cock. It was all he could do not to cum then and there, his toes curling helplessly in their combat boots as he pumped in and out of his beloved quickly, roughly, the tent filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin and Gueira panting as he chased his high and Meis sang him a little tune of moans and sweet blissed-out whimpers, the air around them hot and humid with shared breaths and sloppy kisses. Much more of this and Gueira felt like he might combust and burn the entire base down to nothing but ash and embers. 

_You know what to do,_ the thing inside him growled, so he did.

The thickened, rounded base of Gueira’s cock snapped into Meis’ pussy with a comically wet pop, the man underneath him shrieking with a moan as his fingers tightened helplessly in the pelt beneath them and his toes curled in on themselves where Gueira held them by his ears. “A-Ack!” Gueira gave a strangled cry as their sudden hot, tight union tore his orgasm out of him, thick ropes of cum shooting into Meis’ willing body as the man writhed underneath him, “Dallas! Dallas, Dallas, Dallas, baby…”

When Gueira’s vision cleared from the intense high of his release, Meis was mewling underneath him like a kitten, his one eye squeezed closed beneath a furrowed brow, his nose wrinkled, and his kiss-reddened lips hanging open around a whimper. He was flushed pinky red from his cheeks to his binder, where the blush disappeared beneath the hem, fanning out over his dainty shoulders and prominent collarbones - a picture of beauty, perfectly wrecked. 

Gueira smiled without really realizing it, dipping his head to kiss Meis’ lips, chapped from rough heady kisses, gently this time. He loosened his death grip on Meis’ thighs, slowly lowering them back down to the tent floor, his fingers leaving angry red marks on the tender skin, redder where his claws sank in. Meis’ toes twitched as he came out of his own daze, blinking up at Gueira, his fingers finally loosening up in the fibers of the pelt below. Gueira chuckled, then leaned down, Meis’ horn slipping between his once more as their foreheads met. “You’re beautiful,” he said. 

Meis was too busy catching his breath to respond. The world came rushing back to him all at once when he opened his one eye a moment later. He laughed a little, content to be like this. More than anything in the world. A gentle smile spread across his reddened cheeks. 

If he moved just a little, he’d feel some of the remains of Gueira’s cum gushing out of his entrance, squelching wet. So, he remained still where he laid, his arms reaching to circle around Gueira’s shoulders instead. Gueira met him halfway, cupping Meis’ hands in his for a moment as he peppered each knuckle with a kiss, before finally guiding them to rest around his neck with a faint smile - or, at least, it was the closest semblance of a smile anyone got out of him these days, and it was just for Meis. He, too, was content to lay there with his partner in the pleasant hazy afterglow of sex, their foreheads touching and their breath warm on each other’s face, even though their skin was sticky with sweat and Gueira was certain that he smelled like a day’s travel across the sweltering hot desert. But, if there was anyone he wanted to be sticky and smelly and gross with, it was Meis. He would worry about getting them both cleaned up later, in part because he didn’t feel like moving - and in part because his knot was currently lodged inside Meis so tightly that only a trickle of his cum could escape, streaking the pelt with faint white residue. 

“So,” he mused after a moment of comfortable silence, filled only with the sounds of Meis’ breathing and the omnipresent murmur of the fire in his veins, “I take it you missed me pretty bad today, hmm?”

Meis only mewled in response. The aftermath always made him timid, once the blissful luscious glow of orgasm ebbed away into embarrassment and shame at having drool drying on his chin, hickeys sucked on the pale column of his neck, and his pussy dripping with cum - or at least, it would be, if Gueira’s knot hadn’t formed a tight seal within it. Without Gueira’s rhythmic thrusts to tear every thought from his brain except that he wanted _harder, faster, more, more,_ Meis was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how sticky and sweaty he was. Gueira smelled like sweat and a day spent out in the musty dry desert - but it was comforting in a way, because it was Gueira. Still, he wasn’t keen on laying on the pelt until the sweat dried on his skin and the slick warm cum leaking out of him around Gueira’s knot turned gross and cold.

He gave Gueira’s chest a tiny shove. “Bath,” he whined.

Gueira chuckled. “Already? But I’m still stuck.”

“Carry me,” Meis demanded, already throwing his arms around Gueira’s neck in an unspoken order (the Red Devil took orders from no one, except for Meis). When he lifted his back off the bedding, he realized quite a bit of his hair was stuck tight to his shoulder blades with sweat, the rest of it tousled and tangled in a way that probably wasn’t sexy.

“I love you, Dallie,” Gueira said, bemused, “But I’m not carrying you across camp butt naked for everyone to see. You know I’ll never hear the end of it if I do.” There would be no one around to see them at this hour, he knew, but he was too tired to move, at least until his knot deflated. 

Meis whined dejectedly, resigning himself to his fate as he flopped back down on the pelt, bringing his arms with him. Gueira chuckled at his dramatics, pressing a kiss to his still-flushed cheek as he settled down alongside him. As his rough clawed fingers tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair behind Meis’ ear, Meis decided maybe it wasn’t all bad, even if the way Gueira was studying his prone body and eating him alive with his gleaming red eyes was making him flush from head-to-toe all over again. But, soon enough, Gueira was tugging himself gently free from Meis’ body, his knot softening just enough to let them part and coming free with a sticky runnel of lukewarm cum. Meis winced at the sensation.

Gueira tucked himself back into his pants and zipped his fly, before promptly hitting Meis in the face with a ratty stray blanket just as he sat up. Meis spluttered out a _“hey!”_ before he was suddenly being scooped up, giving him just enough time to scramble to cover himself up before Gueira was hoisting him over his shoulder and leaving the tent. Though the desert was swelteringly hot during the day, it became bitterly cold after moonrise, the cold air momentarily sending a chill up Meis’ half-bare spine before the flames within him fanned higher to abate it, chasing the cold away.

“Boss,” Meis muttered halfheartedly, “I don’t have any clothes to change into. Lemme grab something before we go.”

Gueira tossed him a cocky smirk over his shoulder, where Meis was half-hanging as he carried him, not pausing even for a moment. “Nope. You can just wear my jacket back, Dallie. And besides, there’s no one around at this hour. Everyone’s either already asleep or cleaning up at the mess hall.”

Meis started to protest, but Gueira silenced him by gently cupping his backside through the too-thin material of the blanket. “Hush, love. We’re almost there now,” he said and, resigned to his fate yet again, Meis sank into the warm familiarity of his shoulder with a soft sigh. It was comfortable, here in Gueira’s arms. He felt as safe and secure right here as a Burnish ever could.

The soft organic roar of the waterfall reached Meis’ ears from afar. Gueira was a smart and clever leader and had built his gang’s base closeby to a rare desert oasis, where a short waterfall ran down from the rocky, sandy cliffs above. It ran dry each year for the hottest two weeks of the summer, when the wastes were always in drought, but provided them with some semblance of running water for the rest of the year, which was more than most Burnish could hope for. In many ways, Meis considered himself lucky. 

“See?” Gueira asked as he gently set Meis down on one of the rocky ledges around the spring, the stone surface worn smooth from years of desert wind and running water. This was one of the only places in the wastes where anything but cacti and a few hardy shrubs grew, a string of little pink flowers winding up the rocky wall nearby, above a sparse covering of thistly grass. “No one’s here. Just the two of us. C’mon, lemme wash you, Dallie.”

Shampoo and soap were luxuries not commonly afforded to Red Nova’s settlement, but even just water - fresh and clean and cool - was better than nothing. Meis hissed as he shrugged the blanket off his shoulders and sank knee-deep into the cold dark water, before his fire surged up yet again to stave off the chill. He ran colder than most Burnish, yet another side-effect he discovered in the aftermath of the injury that had taken his eye, but he managed and, out here, that was all he could really ask for. Gueira watched him sink into the spring until he was up to his waist, before shrugging his well-worn leather coat off his shoulders and kicking his boots off before his pants hit the sandy earth nearby in an unkempt heap.

Underneath the moonlight, Meis was even more beautiful than before - the way his pale body parted the water’s rippling surface around it, sending off reflections of silvery-blue moonlight; the shine of his silky black hair where it hung around his shoulders; the sharp flicker of his one blue eye back towards Gueira where he stood, just barely stepping into the spring before he paused to admire his partner. Gueira didn’t miss the way Meis’ cheeks colored before his one eye quickly flitted away, avoiding his steely red gaze. God, he was so lucky. He didn’t deserve this. 

The moonlight caught on the uneven lip of the scar that crossed the bridge of Gueira’s nose as he waded over to meet Meis, hands on his hips to spin him around and touch their foreheads together once more. Meis’ one horn rippled with an icy blue glow, casting arcs of light across the water’s surface, the thing inside him calling out to the thing in Gueira. Like the two of them, those fiery beasts were partners, longing when they were apart, always eager to be together. When Gueira held Meis close like this, he could feel the fire within him grow warmer, sated for the moment. 

He kissed Meis briefly, coming away with the slightest hint of a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Meis scoffed, avoiding his gaze again, his cheeks visibly pink even in the low light as he crossed his arms over his narrow chest, still enclosed in his black binder, “Did ya come here to take a bath, or to gawk at me all night?” 

“Both,” Gueira purred in delight, cupping water in his palms to gently pour over Meis’ bare shoulders, “Not my fault you look so lovely in the moonlight, Dallie.” 

“D-Don’t stare at me like that...” Meis mumbled. Something about seeing each other like this was rather different compared to earlier. He felt as if the other had stripped him already with his eyes and noticed no ounce of shame in them. 

A long red tongue, glowering faintly neon like his twin horns, rolled over Gueira’s kiss-chapped lips, eyes narrowing like a tiger’s. “Why not, beloved? You look good enough to eat,” he mused, hooking a clawed finger in Meis’ hair as he twirled a silky lock around it. A quick glance down was all it took to confirm that his dick was also interested in how _lovely_ Meis looked in the moonlight, bobbing half-hard just beneath the water’s surface, totally unaffected by the cold. Gueira was burning much, much too hot tonight for that to ever be an issue. 

“I-I don’t think I can handle another round,” Meis whispered. _Oh, but you’re practically twitching with excitement,_ Dallas echoed in his ear, making his legs involuntarily squeeze together to conceal his growing arousal. Even in the cold of the spring, his clit felt tight and hot. 

How part of him yearned with desire after being so spent baffled Meis. He felt his knees buckle, keeping his hands steady on Gueira’s chest to anchor himself. Gueira wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him. “Easy, Dallie,” he crooned affectionately, frowning slightly even as something knowingly teasing flickered in those amber-red eyes, “Maybe I got ahead of myself. You look like you might be too tired for round two tonight.” 

“Wait,” Meis hesitated. “We’re alone now…,” he said, mustering up enough confidence to lean forward, kissing Gueira once on the lips. _Besides, it’d be a little disappointing to let an opportunity like this go to waste._ “J-just give me a minute.”

Gueira smirked in that knowing way of his. “Anything for you, darlin’,” he lulled, one of the rare times when he tasted a little of Meis’ own Texan-southern accent on his tongue, his little mannerisms slipping into Gueira’s own until he could hardly tell them apart sometimes. It was sweet enough to make his heart pang, thinking that Meis was so intimately a part of him. “While we wait,” he said after a moment, “why don’t I wash you? Oh, that reminds me! Gotcha something.” 

He waded back to the water’s edge and lurched for his discarded jacket, where it hung over a scraggly-looking shrub nearby, the weight of it nearly dragging the scrappy little plant to the ground. He checked each pocket before he found what he was looking for tucked into the left breast, turning around to show it to Meis: a matching pair of travel-size bottles, shampoo and conditioner, both generically mint-scented. “Here,” he said, “For your hair. Thought it could use a good wash.” 

Meis’ eye blinked wide. “B-Boss…” He cupped his hands over his mouth. “You didn’t have to!” God, he was _delighted_ , proper condiments for bathing was a luxury and with Gueira’s busy schedule, Meis didn’t expect him to give a single thought as to what Meis would want, and he’s been aching to get his hands on one of these for ages. He accepted them happily. “Thank you.”

Gueira carefully popped open the shampoo cap. “Turn around. Let me wash you.” Meis’ visible delight made his heart do a silly little somersault in his chest - or maybe that was just Miami getting riled up at the prospect of more sex. Who knows.

Meis was practically bouncing in excitement as he turned around. Maybe being here was worth it after all, he thought as Gueira poured the shampoo into his palm and recapped the bottle, putting it aside before he started to massage it into a lather. His palms, black as obsidian as Miami did its best to claw its way out of him, were nothing but gentle on Meis’ scalp, scratching lightly between soft black locks and working suds into them. “So soft,” he hummed, more to himself than to Meis. _The softest,_ Miami piped up. Gueira shushed him silently. He didn’t need constant commentary on how beautiful his partner was; he already knew.

It’s an act of congress to lather Meis’ hair from scalp to split ends, but Gueira managed. It took him a solid seven minutes to shampoo Meis and another five to rinse him, but by the time he’s done, Meis was purring like a kitten in his grasp. _Cute_ , he mused and, this time, he wasn’t sure if it was him or Miami. “How’s that?” he asked, “Ready for conditioner?”

“Amazing,” Meis murmured, “Your hands are like magic, boss…” He sighed, eye closed. “I’m ready now,” he said, slowly leaning back into Gueira’s chest.

“Like magic?” Gueira chuckled, bemused, as he uncapped the conditioner and poured it out into his hand, “I’ll show you magic hands in a minute, Dallie.” He recapped the bottle and put it aside, beginning to spread the conditioner over Meis’ hair ‘til it was shiny and smooth between his fingers, threading through them like black silk. 

“I could stay here all night,” Meis hummed to himself. He loved Gueira’s magic hands. He knew what he was doing. The way he relaxed instantly at the fingers digging into his scalp felt like he was melting into a fine heaven, a wonderland of sorts. All the tenseness from earlier slowly disappeared. 

“So could I, but I’m afraid we might wake up the entire camp if we don’t go back to our own tent soon,” Gueira replied as he cupped water in his palms to rinse Meis’ hair, “You need to duck under and rinse. I’ll never get it all out this way.” He gathered Meis’ conditioner-soaked hair up in his fist, holding it up over his head in a pseudo-ponytail to press a few soft kisses to the base of his neck, just below his hairline. His cock bobbed beneath the water’s surface in interest, sending ripples across the pool. Behind them, the waterfall droned, quiet and peaceful. This was nice. 

_It would be nicer if our cock was warm inside him,_ Miami piped up.

 _Shush, you overgrown mutt,_ Gueira griped back silently, too intent on nipping at the nape of Meis’ neck, already dappled blue with fading hickeys as his flames licked them away, to grapple with Miami for long. 

Meis squirmed. Gueira’s kisses made his body flare up all over again. They tickled, grazing over the skin of his neck, and he couldn’t help but giggle. He felt something poking him from behind, his cheeks flushed. “It sounds like you have other plans, boss…” 

“That’s why I suggested we go back to our tent,” Gueira mused, dropping Meis’ hair to let it cascade down his back in thick wet tresses and instead press kisses to his bare shoulder, pointed and elegant, the very picture of perfection, “But I don’t think either me or Miami can wait that long. We wanna take you right here, nightingale.” 

Meis barely held back the moan that escaped him. "S-So, hurry…," he pleaded gently, purposefully shifting back so that his rear could rub against Gueira's stirring erection. He's drenched from head-to-toe with water - and other places, too, as of now. 

Gueira grunted faintly at the press of Meis’ backside to his cock, which bobbed appreciatively at the slightest touch now as Miami hungered within him, the flames that were a quiet simmer a few minutes prior now an inferno roaring in his head. Ordinarily, their chant was _burn, burn, burn_ , but for now, Miami had adopted a less traditional chorus of _fuck, fuck, fuck_ as he silently whined for Gueira to take their partner. It was enough to make a lesser Burnish’s head swim, but Gueira was no ordinary Burnish: he was controlled, calculative, clever, experienced. He knew how to take it slow - in more ways than one, as he peppered Meis’ shoulders and collarbones with kisses. “You look nice with wet hair,” he murmured, before he scooped Meis up under his buttocks and half-carried, half-waded him over to the water’s edge, picking a slippery-wet boulder in the shallowest part of the pool to rest him on. He nudged a thigh beneath the water’s surface. “Spread ‘em,” he said, and it was not a request. 

Meis spread them without hesitation, looking up at Gueira beneath his long, fluttering lashes. The discoloration on his cheeks was a pretty cherry red as his gaze darted away bashfully. Gueira rolled a pointed red tongue, faintly glowing in the moonlight, over his chapped lips in an exaggerated display of hunger, before he set upon Meis’ neck with another smattering of nips and kisses. “Do you want my knot again, darling?” he quipped against Meis’ ear when he came up for air, “Miami is just _dying_ to give it to you again.” 

“Yes,” Meis nodded frantically, unable to stop himself from squirming at the sight of Gueira’s long tongue. 

Gueira didn’t miss the way Meis’ one eye flickered down to his tongue and back up, at the same moment that his own pink little tongue licked anxiously at his plush lips. He chuckled, throaty and deep. “As much as I would love to stuff my tongue in that tight little pussy of yours, I think Miami’s eager to get on with the show,” he teased, claws cupping Meis’ thighs roughly as he lined himself up, dragging the weeping pointed head of his ribbed draconic cock through the soft pink folds with a teasing grin tugging at one corner of his lips, “And I think you are, too, beloved.”

Meis instantly stiffened, pussy clenching, desperate for some sort of friction as Gueira moved against him. “I need you inside me right now,” he whispered, voice wavering with blind hazy arousal. 

“So impatient,” Gueira quipped, already sinking inside him as his claws gripped tightly to Meis’ backside, feeling the soft squish of skin and muscle as he gritted his teeth around a hiss. Despite having already been fucked once that day, Meis somehow managed to remain pleasantly snug around him, hot and slick around his cock as it hilted inside him. “A-Ah…,” he grunted, not managing to completely stifle his pleasured sounds as his twin bull horns pulsed with an approving red glow. 

Meis’ cry reached the peak of the waterfalls. He’s still extremely sensitive, yet he tightened instantly around Gueira like he’d just entered home again. “B-Boss…,” he whimpered sweetly, his arms hanging over Gueira’s shoulders for support. Adjusting to the size of the other’s bulging cock overwhelmed him each time and he was already feeling himself come undone and forgetting all about being discreet despite the slumbering camp closeby. 

“Shhh,” Gueira hummed in his ear, almost soothingly, as he gave Meis’ buttocks an appreciative squeeze and drew his hips back before pistoning back into him, tearing a sing-song little moan from his lover’s throat, “You better be quiet, Dallie. Minnea’s tent’s nearby, you know, and she’ll have _both_ our heads for breakfast if we wake her up.” He thrusted again, slower this time, more rhythmic, deeper, and Meis gave a whimpering cry. He tsked. “Am I gonna have to _make_ you shut up, darling?” 

Meis bit his lip and buried his head into the juncture of Gueira’s shoulder. _He’s going to have to,_ Dallas said knowingly. Gueira’s well-calculated thrusts rubbed him just right and Meis’ body twitched, struggling to keep any ounce of restraint he had left in him.

“I-I can’t... _ah…!_ ” Meis’ nails dug into the skin of Gueira’s back, leaving red trails in its wake. _Let everyone know how it feels. Make it known who claims you._

“Poor Dallie, getting so worked up, just for me?” Gueira teased - but good-naturedly, as evidenced by the rather tender musings of a smile on his lips and a certain gleam in his glowing red eyes as they reflected the light of his horns in their heady blown-out irises, blacker than the night sky above them, “Don’t worry. I know what’ll shut you up.”

He pressed a bruising kiss to Meis’ open mouth, swallowing his moans. It was heated but brief, tongues tangling for just a moment before Gueira pulled away, sucked in a breath, and dove right back in, his teeth seeming longer and sharper in his mouth the second time their lips met as more and more of Miami slipped out of him. It was hard to tell sometimes, where Gueira ended and Miami began, but it also wasn’t that simple: they were one and the same, a mutualistic relationship, two parts of a whole. Sometimes, Gueira blended right into Miami, and Miami was every bit just another body of Gueira’s. It showed sometimes, in their horns, in their fangs tinted glowering green, in their rumbling and growling and otherworldly strength. But Meis liked it best when it showed just for him, just like this.

Gueira came away from a sloppy-wet kiss panting, bringing a string of Meis’ saliva with him that he promptly broke with a swipe of that long red tongue. His rhythm was growing sloppy, frantic. “I’m close,” he warned through a moan of delight as each thrust bottomed out in Meis’ soft warm depths, hearing his fire burning hotter and higher within him (or were those Meis’ flames he heard?), “Miami misses their mate, y’know. Why don’t you show me those claws, darlin’?” 

_My pleasure._ Meis’ elongated claws sank deeper into Gueira’s back, he was already close. Dallas was all too eager to answer Miami’s cry, Meis’ single horn flaring brightly in excitement as the fiery thing leapt out of him and slick black obsidian weaved its way up his arms, all the way past his elbows and then some. A slender black tail, narrow and whiplike, unfurled from the base of his spine, hitting the water’s surface with a splash. He moaned and smoke billowed out from his parted lips and drifted away on the desert wind. 

“I-I want to… together…,” Meis requested, breathless, drool on his chin and his tongue hanging out. It would almost be comical, if he didn’t look so damn attractive. 

“You look so beautiful when you’re all fucked out,” Gueira rumbled, an octave deeper than usual, as the thing inside him growled for its mate. He gripped Meis’ backside tighter, claws sinking in enough to hurt anything less than a horned Burnish like Meis, bright blue flames licking away blood before it even flowed to the wounds and sealing them right back closed. He thrusted deeper, harder, reaching Meis’ limits with every motion, his cock seeming thicker with every movement as his knot pulsed and swelled. He knocked their foreheads together, Meis’ horn yet again sandwiched between his as all three lit up like Christmas trees or neon signs, right as he thrusted just hard enough to knot him. The thick bulbous swell of his cock popped inside Meis with an almost cartoonishly wet sound, the sudden squeeze of him around it too much. Gueira came hard with a strangled moan, Meis’ depths flooded with sweet liquid heat as he filled him. Inside him, the fire roared deafeningly loud with satisfaction. 

“A-Ahh— b-boss—!” It’s Gueira’s knot sealing inside him that sent him hurtling over the edge, his climax tearing through him like a tidal wave. His body jolted and he went rigid. If the entire camp heard them, so be it, he doesn’t care. He could feel Gueira’s essence pooling inside him, nothing but a familiar, pleasant warmth. Meis’ body collapsed against Gueira, riding out the last of the euphoria with a blissful moan. 

A few final, shallow thrusts into Meis’ body and Gueira was through, his hips gradually stilling as he came down from the high of it all, only then realizing that every thrust had sent water splashing up Meis’ body all the way to his shoulders. Anyone within earshot had certainly heard some very interesting splashes, accompanied by telltale moans and whines from Meis, but he was too blissed-out from orgasm to care right now. He would worry about it in the morning, when his entire crew inevitably, irritably teased him about sticking his dick in his _pet unicorn_ in the middle of the night, over cups of weak black coffee brewed from the cheapest grounds on the market. 

By the time he caught his breath, Gueira realized there were welts rising on Meis’ backside where his claws had sunk in too deep or where the boulder he sat on had scratched at him through the rough motions of frantic sex. His flames would heal them within minutes, but it didn’t stop him from feeling bad - or like he owed Meis some serious aftercare for the rough ride, starting with a gentle sweep of a stray, sodden lock of black hair behind his ear. “You really took it like a champ, Dallie,” he hummed, almost in admiration. Any Burnish lesser than Meis would struggle to take Gueira at his worst (or, in this case, at his horniest), but Meis was no ordinary Burnish - or no ordinary man. “You look so cute with your hair all tousled and wet.” 

“Mmm…” Meis went slack against his body, barely forming a coherent response and just humming in reply. His eyes fluttered shut. He’d do anything to satisfy Gueira’s needs - even if it wore him out completely to the bone. He pulled back slightly when he realized they’d have to clean themselves off all over again. “W-We got ourselves dirty again,” he lamented.

“We’ll live,” Gueira quipped, already gathering Meis up in his arms to hoist him up against his body, cradling him against his well-muscled chest, which was still rising and falling quickly with exertion. The voices in his head were quieter now, sated for the moment, by a satisfaction far greater than burning. He waded back into the spring, where the water was deeper, right at the base of its small waterfall. “Close your eyes and mouth,” he warned, and then they were both under the fall. It was cold, but after the night’s events, its cool was a welcome relief to them both, their skin fiery-hot and blazing as the flames simmered just underneath their skin. After a few seconds, he stepped back out from under the fall, both of them sloppy-wet and dripping, shaggy strands of hair hanging down in his face. He shook his head like a dog, the red underside of his hair blending seamlessly into the blackish brown of its topside when it was dark with wetness. It might have been a cute, silly moment - a rare thing with the Red Devil - if not for the fact that, all the while, Gueira’s knot was still tightly lodged inside of Meis, every movement sending shockwaves of red-hot pleasure through his overstimulated, too-sensitive body. 

Meis gasped at the sudden rush of cold, his hair sticking against his lower back and drenched once again, droplets running down his body. That actually felt much better. He giggled at Gueira’s silliness, instinctively reaching to smooth down his wet hair, and instead, petting it lightly and gently scratching at his scalp. It was hard to tell in the moonlight, but he thought Gueira’s cheeks colored just a little pink.

“Hey,” Gueira rumbled, inclining his forehead against Meis’ once more, so their horns fitted together like a lock and key, “Stop being so cute.”

“Your fluff is gone,” Meis pouted slightly, “Boss looks like a wet dog now.” His pouty frown faded into a teasing little grin. 

“I might look like a wet dog,” Gueira chuckled, “but you’re the one with a wet pussy right now, love.” He gave a shallow thrust, held mostly still by the swollen tight seal of his knot, for emphasis and Meis’ cheeks burned when he heard the resulting wet squelch. Gueira only chuckled again, deep and throaty, and gave him an affectionate bat with his head. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, Dallie. Let’s get you dried off, and then maybe this’ll go down enough for us to get back to our tent.” 

Meis yelped at the sudden movement, pussy burning with overstimulation. “T-That’s not fair… boss…,” he whined as he lightly pushed at his chest, but it did him no good. They were quite literally stuck together, at least for the moment. 

“You know the Red Devil doesn’t play fair, darling,” Gueira rumbled with a tender nibble at the shell of Meis’ ear. His knot was beginning to soften, Miami’s panting still loud and clear in his head. He wriggled his hips, testing its limits, and found that he was still stuck tight, grunting softly at the overstimulation. “This is real inconvenient sometimes, y’know,” he lamented, but there was still that smile in his eyes - a smile he only wore for Meis. 

“Sounds like it.” Meis wrapped his arms around Gueira’s shoulders and snuggled against him. “How much longer…? I’m tired…”

“A few minutes, maybe,” Gueira mused, supporting Meis with one arm underneath his thighs while the other cradled him close, “I could always just waltz across camp with you naked as a jay bird in my arms, if you’re feeling impatient.” He chuckled lightheartedly. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been caught.”

“No one except Minnea’s gonna call you out on it anyway, because they’re too scared to,” Meis said. So, it didn’t really matter if they did get caught. 

“As much as Miami would love it if I flaunted the fact that I just fucked you senseless to the entire camp,” Gueira said, “I have to maintain _some_ dignity as their leader. And besides...I’m too tired to carry you that far right now.” He smiled faintly, then came free from Meis’ body with a sharp backwards tug of his hips and a sloppy runnel of cum, grunting at the sensation. “There we go...let’s get our things and get some rest, hmm?” 

Gueira carried Meis to the shore, setting him down on his feet lightly and holding onto him until he was certain he could stand on his own. Meis wobbled for a moment, but quickly got his footing and bent double to collect his things - in this case, only the ratty old blanket he had worn here, courtesy of Gueira’s impatience - while Gueira stepped back into his pants and buckled them around his waist. 

Meis was fumbling to tie the blanket in a loose knot around his narrow waist when the familiar warm leather of Gueira’s coat settled around his damp shoulders, fending off the bitter night breeze. Inside him, the fire burned a little brighter in response.

“C’mon, love,” Gueira said with a rare tender smile, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, “Let’s get some rest.” 

Meis squeezed his hand as he returned Gueira’s smile. There was an unfamiliar warmth in his chest at the way Gueira suddenly seemed to glow brighter under the moon. “Okay,” he said, and they quietly returned to their tent for a scarce few hours of rest before sunrise woke them.

That, and Minnea’s shouting and Gueira’s answering yelp as she flung a shoe directly at the back of his head through the entrance to his tent, yelling something about keeping her up the entire night. Meis only smiled faintly and played dead; maybe if he pretended not to hear them, he wouldn’t have to attend the morning meeting today. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow us bastards.
> 
>  **[van](http://twitter.com/danganphobia)** // **[lars](http://twitter.com/LittlePinkYeen)**


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